


The Kingdoms Never Weep

by bellabonbon



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellabonbon/pseuds/bellabonbon
Summary: Zoe wonders why she’s the one who has to be responsible for acting a certain way for other people. The other people aren’t the ones going through this-sheis. It’s her family’s tragedy after all.That sounds so ridiculous. She’s heard it from the buttload of adults who have drifted in and out of her house this week. They’re all so sorry for her family’s tragedy. Tragedy. What’s so tragic about it? Connor hated them. He hated their life. He hated their family. So he left it. How is that a tragedy? A tragedy is when some loving son gets hit by a drunk driver on the way home from soccer practice and dies unexpectedly. It’s not some asshole killing himself after atleastsix or seven years of telling everyone how much he despises being part of their world.





	The Kingdoms Never Weep

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters or events.

Zoe is positive that she’ll never forget that day as long as she lives.

It doesn’t matter what else happens in her lifetime- _that_ will be the defining day, and there’s nothing she can do about it. It pisses her off.

It’s been three days, and she’s been reliving it nonstop. She was at Melody’s house rehearsing when her dad called. She ignored it at first because if he really needed to talk to her, he could just text like a normal human. When her mom called less than a minute later, though, she decided maybe she should answer. 

She wishes she never did.

She’s never going to forget the way her mom sounded- screaming into the phone, freaking out… Zoe couldn’t even understand what she was saying. It was the worst sound she’s ever heard in her life.

When she got home, there was nowhere for her to even park. There were two ambulances and three police cars blocking the driveway. She had to park in front of the Sandersons’ house and had to pretend like she didn’t see Mrs. Sanderson watching through the curtains, trying to see what was happening. Everyone was watching. There were neighbors out all over the place, all trying to get a glimpse of whatever drama was going down at the Murphys.

Zoe didn’t want to go to her house, but she also couldn’t stand outside and be gossip fodder for the rest of the neighborhood. So she ran. She ran across the yard and up to the front door, and then a police officer stopped her. He wouldn’t let her go past, and she started yelling, obviously making a bad situation even worse. But then her dad showed up, and it was really real.

Connor was dead. Connor _is_ dead. He’s been dead for three days, and this is their new reality. 

She didn’t see him. He was still there- in the house- when she got there, but she didn’t see him. There were police officers everywhere, people with jackets on that said CORONER on the back. It was the weirdest thing, having all those strangers there in her house, knowing what they were doing but seeing none of it. 

Her dad stayed with her, keeping her in the kitchen and forcing water or juice or coffee or any beverage he could into her system. He was trying to fix things. That’s what he does- he’s a fixer- and he was trying to _fix_ the situation. But obviously that was stupid. Her drinking grapefruit juice wasn’t going to make Connor not dead in his bedroom. 

Her mom was hysterical. Zoe didn’t see her, either- not at first. She heard her, though. She was screaming and crying, and Zoe just sat there at the kitchen table thinking that her dad should go be with her mom instead of sitting there pouring her coffee. She didn’t say it, though. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say because Connor was dead in his bedroom, and her mother was having a nervous breakdown in the living room. 

Three days later, and her mom is still pretty hysterical.

She’s taken probably a lifetime supply of Xanax in the past three days. It’s the only thing that keeps her from sobbing 24 hours a day. She still cries a ton, but she sleeps a lot, too, thanks to the nerve pills she keeps on ready supply. She’s absolutely not functioning, but if she’s asleep, at least she’s not melting down. 

She has to be awake today, though. The autopsy is finally done, and they have to go make funeral arrangements. The whole family. Mom, Dad, Zoe. They all have to go and plan the funeral of a seventeen year old like that’s something even remotely normal. Zoe stays in her room as long as possible that normal, trying really hard to just wait out the clock or something. Like maybe if she spends long enough doing her hair, the whole thing will just disappear.

It doesn’t.

Her dad comes to her room and tells her they’re ready to go, so she puts her shoes on and goes downstairs to join her parents who are both sitting in the living room waiting on her. The difference between them is crazy. Her mom, normally so put together, is a mess. She’s got on wrinkled clothes, her hair is in a greasy ponytail, and she’s not wearing any makeup to hide the bags under her eyes and the new set of wrinkles that seem to have popped up overnight. Her dad, though, looks totally normal. He’s in a suit, and Zoe doesn’t miss the briefcase sitting at his feet.

“Are you going to work?”

He glances at her and then stands up and smooths down his jacket. “I’m going in for a few hours after we get everything taken care of.”

Zoe just look at him. She’d like to say she’s surprised, but she’s not. She glances at her mom and expects to see her angry, but she’s just staring straight ahead. Just blank. Like she’s not even there. Maybe she’s not.

They go to the same funeral home that handled her grandmother’s funeral a few years ago. Zoe had nothing to do with that one- just showed up for the service. She feels very awkward sitting there in the office as some overweight man sits behind a desk and tells them how sorry he is for their loss.

They’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Friends, neighbors… people keep showing up with casseroles and cards that say how sorry they are for the loss. The loss. Like it’s a ballgame or something and not a freaking high school student. Like there wasn’t a seventeen year old kid here on Monday who’s now… just gone. Forever. When you lose a ballgame, you can try again next season. Connor doesn’t have a next season.

Her dad does most of the talking. He answers all the questions that Mr. Hoffner asks. He gives him all of Connor’s personal information, answers all the questions about their family, and then they get down to the details. Zoe’s never really thought about how much planning goes into a funeral, and she just sits there quietly while her dad and Mr. Hoffner discuss options and finances, and holy shit, this stuff is expensive.

Mr. Hoffner takes them to another part of the building, and there’s an actual casket showroom. Like they’re cars or something. But they’re not. They’re caskets, and they’re all laid out and set up with staged flowers and other details. It looks ridiculous. Zoe doesn’t want to be here, but she can’t go anywhere. Her dad’s got his arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly like he knows she might run away if he doesn’t keep a grasp on her. Her mother, though, is trailing behind, still in a semi-daze.

Mr. Hoffner shows them several different options, and Zoe has a very strong feeling that he’s showing them the most expensive options on purpose. Whatever. It’s not her money. If her dad wants to spend that kind of cash trying to glamorize Connor’s selfishness, then whatever. It has nothing to do with her. She’s surprised, though, when it’s actually her mother who speaks up and makes the decision.

“This one.” Her voice is low and scratchy, and everyone looks over to where she’s standing in front of a shiny black casket with a grey satin lining. 

Zoe doesn’t say anything. She just stands where she is when her dad finally lets her go and goes over to join her mother. Mr. Hoffner joins them as well, and Zoe barely overhears the price. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, to pay that much money for a box that’s literally just going into the ground. It’s not her money, though, and no one cares what she has to say anyway.

“You’ll need to bring his clothes before tomorrow afternoon. And if there’s anything else that you want us to include in the display, just let us know. We can do a video, so if you want to bring by pictures, people usually give us between 20 to 40.”

Zoe blocks out the rest. She slips out of the room and into the hallway. There’s a bench that looks like something you’d find in a church from 1985, and she sits down on it, trying really hard to mentally remove herself from everything going on around her. None of this seems real. She still can’t force herself to believe that it’s real.

Two or twenty minutes later (she really has no idea), she finally sees her parents and Mr. Hoffner coming down the hallway. She hears her dad say that he needs to get the checkbook out of the car, and she watches as he disappears through the glass doors. Mr. Hoffner heads back into his office, and Zoe watches her mother half-stumble over to sit down beside her.

She doesn’t know what to do. She hasn’t had the slightest idea what to do or say at all since Monday night. She’s mostly just tried to be as invisible as possible because she doesn’t want to have to think of things to do and say. She shouldn’t have to.

“I think it’s going to be nice…” Her mom’s voice is low and gruff, and it sounds like she’s having to make a real effort to even form the words. Zoe tries not to wince when she places a hand on her knee and squeezes. She doesn’t feel like being touched right now. She doesn’t feel like talking right now, either. 

Still, Zoe knows she shouldn’t purposely make a bad situation worse, so she just nods. “Yeah, probably.”

“I think he would like it.”

Zoe wants to laugh. She really wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to kill her mother’s sad delusion that Connor would have any thoughts at all about the box they threw him into except that it was fucking stupid to spend that kind of money. He probably wouldn’t even want _any_ of this. Zoe thinks he’d probably prefer to be cremated and forgotten about, but no one cares what she thinks. This whole thing is just for her parents, and she knows it. It’s kind of messed up, but she doesn’t say anything.

She just nods again.

Later that night, she’s in her room messing around with some sheet music. She’s mostly just trying to occupy her brain because it won’t slow down, and it won’t shut up. It also feels strangely blank, which she realizes makes no sense at all. She’s already been forced to listen to her mom crying through the wall as she obviously tries to pick out Connor’s funeral clothes. 

Her parents had argued about it in the car after they left the funeral home. Her dad said they needed to go shopping because Connor owned nothing that was “acceptable.” That’s the word he used. _Acceptable._ Like death comes with some kind of dress code or something. Her mom, though, argued that he needed to be buried in something “familiar.” That’s the word _she_ used. Familiar. Like Connor would ever give even the slightest of shits about it. 

Zoe sat in the backseat and looked at her Instagram feed.

Apparently her mom won the argument because Zoe’s spent too much time tonight listening to her cry from Connor’s room. They share a wall, and Zoe has always hated that for so many reasons. The walls are too thin, and it’s always sucked. Connor hates (hated- she keeps having to correct herself) hearing her practice, and he would always go into huge rages if he thought she was playing too loudly. He’d bang on her wall and on her door, screaming all kinds of shit that normal people probably don’t scream at their sisters. She’d get pissed and just play even more loudly, which would make him even crazier. And when he couldn’t get a reaction from all his banging and screaming, he’d go back into his room and start blaring the loudest music he had in his library. And then they’d just exist like that- both trying to drown the other one out and piss the other one off more- until, of course, their parents would get fed up and threaten them both until they both went absolutely silent. 

Zoe thinks it’s pretty messed up that Connor’s dead, and she’s still having to put up with these stupid shitty thin walls. 

It’s not the only thin wall in the house, though. To be a fairly large house, noise travels a little too easily. She’s making edits on her music when she first hears them arguing. She didn’t even hear her dad come home, so she’s a little surprised to hear him.

“I have to work, Cynthia. The world doesn’t just stop spinning.” His voice is firm but calm. It echoes up the stairs, and Zoe doesn’t know whether she wants to eavesdrop or grab her Beats and block them out.

Her mom, of course, is not all that calm. She’s apparently decided to lay off the Xanax for a few hours before she’s able to string together more than two words. “I can’t do all of this by myself! I just can’t, Larry!”

_”You_ can’t do it all by yourself?” Zoe winces when her dad’s voice raises. “I’ve done _everything_ while you’ve been in bed for three days!”

“Well, excuse me for not being able to just carry on like nothing ever happened! My _son_ just died!”

“He was my son, too. And no one expects you to just act like nothing happened, but we do have to act like functioning humans.”

Zoe grabs her headphones and immediately starts her playlist. She doesn’t want to hear what her mother’s response to that is. She doesn’t want to hear any of it. Her parents have literally been fighting for as long she’s been alive, and it’s just too much sometimes. 

It’s just too much.

Her dad goes back to work the next morning, and Zoe doesn’t leave her bedroom until 11 o’clock when she absolutely cannot hold her pee in anymore. The house feels empty and weird, and she realizes she’s tip-toeing for no apparent reason. 

Her stomach’s growling, and even though she’s barely been able to eat anything these past few days, she knows she needs to feed herself. There’s a crap ton of food in the kitchen because people keep bringing it over. She opens the fridge and pulls out the first casserole she puts her hand on. It’s some kind of chicken and cheese stuff, and whatever. It’s fine. She pulls out a plate and then decides that maybe she should be at least somewhat of a good person and pulls down another. 

Her parents’ bedroom door is closed, and she can’t hear any noise coming from behind it. She’s sure her mom’s asleep, so she quietly pushes it open and peeks inside. She’s surprised, though, to see her mother sitting up, dressed, and even showered. There’s an open bag lying in front of her.

“Hi, honey.” She gives Zoe the sad, sympathetic smile she normally reserves for district band competitions when Zoe can’t get higher than fifth or sixth chair. 

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I had to take some things to the funeral home.” Oh, right. The casket clothes. Zoe can’t believe she forgot already. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I heated up some lunch.” Zoe doesn’t know what else to say because all of this is weird. Her mom’s acting halfway normal, and it’s actually a little scary.

“That was nice of you.” Another sad smile.

“What’s that?” Zoe motions to the bag and watches as her mom runs her hand softly over the plastic.

“They’re Connor’s things.” Her voice hitches a little bit when she actually says the name, and she looks down and closes her eyes for a second. “The coroner’s office… gave them to the funeral home.”

Zoe looks a little more closely and realizes that it’s just a bag of clothes. She realizes that they must be the clothes Connor was wearing when… She feels seriously creeped out. She nods and turns around to head back to the kitchen, but her mom stops her.

“Zo?” Zoe turns around reluctantly and tries to keep her real emotions off of her face. “Do you know who Evan Hansen is?”

Zoe’s confused. She doesn’t know why the hell her mom would be asking her that question, but she answers it anyway. “He’s a kid at school… A junior, I think.” She shakes her head. “I mean senior.” _She’s_ a junior. She’s not used to that- maybe because she’s only spent one day of junior year actually at school. “Why?

But her mom just shakes her head a little and looks away. “Nothing. I’m just… thinking.”

“About Evan Hansen?”

“About your brother.” 

Zoe can tell from the tone of voice that her mother is done answering questions. Whatever. “I heated up a casserole,” she says dully. “In case you want any.”

She feels like she’s starving, but when she sits down at the kitchen table, she barely gets anything down. It’s like her throat and her stomach are in a fight, both too stubborn to work correctly or something. Still, she sits there, pushing food around on her plate for at least an hour.

Her mother never joins her.

Melody comes over that afternoon after school, and Zoe’s kind of glad to see a friend and kind of embarrassed. She has seen a lot of neighbors (probably the whole neighborhood- they’re very nosey). She’s seen family that lives close by- Aunt Susan and Uncle Ethan, her mom’s cousin Sherry, a couple of other cousins that she doesn’t really know that well. Her parents’ friends, and her some of her dad’s co-workers have come by. But she hasn’t seen anyone her own age, at least no one she knows or is friends with. So seeing Melody gives her mixed feelings.

They go up to her room, and she doesn’t at all miss the way Melody looks at Connor’s closed door. She looks nervous or scared like she shouldn’t be that close to a room where somebody killed themselves a few days ago. 

“It’s fine. I don’t think he’s haunting the place- it’s been way too peaceful for that.”

Zoe hears the words leave her mouth, and she’s kind of struck by how easy it is to just make jokes about her brother’s death. Well, not _jokes_ maybe because she doesn’t feel any humor at all. But she doesn’t really feel much of anything else, either.

Melody, though, looks at her like she can’t believe she just said that. She looks uncomfortable, and Zoe wonders if she’s going to go back to school and tell everyone else in jazz band that she’s a bad person who makes jokes about her dead brother’s ghost.

They go into her room and sit on her bed, and Zoe wishes Melody would stop acting so damn weird. She’s normally loud and hyper and sometimes a little too much. But right now, she’s just sitting on the very edge of Zoe’s bed with her back very straight and her legs crossed. Zoe lies on her stomach in front of her laptop, which is where she’s been for days now. She turns some music on, mostly just to drown out the silence.

“So… How’s school?” She feels dumb as shit asking something so lame, but she has to say _something_.

Melody just lifts a shoulder. “Boring.”

“Did I miss anything?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to go to your classes and get your assignments?”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I don’t mean school-wise. I mean gossip-wise.”

“Oh.” Melody pauses for a second and then shakes her head. “Nothing much.”

How is it possible that things are so awkward? She was just over at Melody’s house a few nights ago, and they were hanging out like normal- practicing a little and joking and eating guacamole straight from the jar. 

Right up until she answered that call from her mom…

“So everyone’s talking about me, right?” She just puts it out there, tries to take some of the awkwardness away from the situation because she already knows. She’s not stupid. “ _I’m_ what’s going on gossip-wise?”

Melody looks uncomfortable again, twisting a little from her place at the edge of the bed. “I mean…” Her voice trails off for a second, and then she tries again. “Everyone’s thinking about you, yeah.”

Thinking about her. Sure. More like gossiping about her. She wonders exactly how many different theories are floating around school right now. She can just imagine it- Connor Murphy shot himself on the back deck, Connor Murphy slit his wrists in the bathtub, Connor Murphy ODed on heroin. Yeah, she’s sure everyone’s just thinking about her.

“Are you okay, Zoe?” Melody breaks into her thoughts, and Zoe looks up to find her staring with what sort of looks like a combination of sympathy and terror.

“I’m fine.” Zoe sits up on her knees and tucks her hair behind her ears. She skips to the next song on her laptop because the current one is too slow and boring. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your brother just died?”

Zoe hates that, and she hears herself talking before she has a chance to reign herself in. “It’s not like he had cancer or something. He tied a belt to a beam in his closet and kicked a chair out from under himself. Obviously he got what he wanted, so why should I care?”

The words hang there in the air, and Zoe realizes too late that she’s made a huge mistake. Those thoughts are fine for her head, but she’s not supposed to say them out loud. That’s not what you’re supposed to do in this situation. 

But what the fuck _are_ you supposed to do in this situation?

She tries very hard to keep her face neutral. Even though she regrets the words- regrets _saying_ them anyway- she doesn’t want to look like she does. So she just sits there, even lifts her eyebrows a little bit like she’s waiting on Melody to contradict her.

She doesn’t. She just looks a little disturbed and ducks her head. “Okay.”

That just pisses Zoe off, and she doesn’t even know why. “And I was serious about it being peaceful.” _Shut up, Zoe._ “I haven’t had to listen to shitty music or hear my dad scream at anyone all week.” 

Melody doesn’t say anything. Zoe knows that she’s made her super uncomfortable, and she feels a little bad because Melody is her friend. She shouldn’t purposely be trying to make her feel awkward, but this is literally the most human interaction she’s had in days. She has no idea why that gives her a license to be an asshole, but it does.

“My dad already called a contractor to come fix the beam in Connor’s room. It cracked a little bit.”

_Why_ is she talking? She can’t shut up.

“My mom has only been out of bed like twice. She’s taken so many nerve pills that I’m surprised she hasn’t killed herself, too.”

“Zoe…” Melody’s just staring at her, obviously in shock that she can say these things. But what’s so shocking about them? They’re all true statements. 

Still. “Sorry.” She apologizes, even though she’s not really sure she should have to. “It’s just… weird.”

Melody nods, and her face softens like she’s glad that Zoe is finally saying something that a normal person would say after their brother killed himself. Zoe wonders why she’s the one who has to be responsible for acting a certain way for other people. The other people aren’t the ones going through this- _she_ is. It’s her family’s tragedy after all.

That sounds so ridiculous. She’s heard it from the buttload of adults who have drifted in and out of her house this week. They’re all so sorry for her family’s tragedy. Tragedy. What’s so tragic about it? Connor hated them. He hated their life. He hated their family. So he left it. How is that a tragedy? A tragedy is when some loving son gets hit by a drunk driver on the way home from soccer practice and dies unexpectedly. It’s not some asshole killing himself after at _least_ six or seven years of telling everyone how much he despises being part of their world.

So now he’s out of their world. For good. Out of their life. Out of their family. Out of their world. 

Whose tragedy is that?

Melody leaves less than an hour after she arrives. They spend a little while longer talking about jazz band because that’s the only subject that doesn’t seem totally insane. Then she says she has to go because she has to babysit her little sister. Zoe knows it’s a lie because it’s Friday night, and Melody’s parents are always both home on Friday nights. She doesn’t point this out, though, just nods and lets Melody hug her awkwardly. 

And then she’s all alone again. 

The next day is the worst. She’s not surprised because she knew it would be the worst. It’s raining when she wakes up, and she thinks it’s kind of appropriate. She thinks strangely that Connor would like it to be raining today. Not that she gives a shit what Connor would like.

No one’s around to make breakfast, but that’s no different from any other day since it happened. She isn’t hungry, either, but she still takes a muffin from the basket that the Camdens brought over and tries to force some of it down. 

Her dad shows up a few minutes later while she’s sitting alone at the table breaking off bits of blueberry and trying really hard to swallow them. He’s already dressed, which is crazy because they don’t have to be there until ten, and it’s barely even eight right now. He pours a cup of coffee from the pot Zoe started, and she’s actually surprised when he joins her at the table. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and she wonders if he took one of her mom’s pills or something. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath and looks at her.

“Who is Evan Hansen?”

Zoe blinks. “Why do you and Mom keep asking about Evan Hansen?”

Her dad glances away like he’s trying to decide whether to say the next part or something. After a few seconds, though, he turns back to her. “Connor…” He swallows like he’s clearing his throat or something. “Connor had a letter in his pocket when he…” His voice trails off, and Zoe realizes that he has yet to actually say out loud anything about Connor being dead- at least to her knowledge. “He had a letter with him. A letter for Evan Hansen.”

Zoe’s face twists in confusion. “Like a _suicide note?_ ”

Her dad looks uncomfortable, but he nods. “Your mother and I have never heard of him.”

“Where is it?” She asks the question without even thinking about it. “I want to see it.”

She watches as her dad frowns deeply, and then he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s very upsetting.”

She gives him a dumbfounded look. “I’m not a little kid, Dad. I have a right to read it. I’m part of this family, too.”

He looks like he’s about to flat out refuse, so she’s very confused when he finally just sighs and then gets up. He leaves the kitchen, and she half-expects him to ditch her completely. He doesn’t, though, and he shows back up a couple of minutes later with a folded piece of white paper. His hand shakes a little bit when he holds it out for her.

Zoe reads the letter, feeling her stomach drop lower and lower with every word. It’s like some horrifying train wreck that she can’t look away from. The words start swimming in front of her as she reads one part over and over at least ten times.

_Because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me. But maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her… Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different._

“What the hell is this?” She finally looks up from the letter, and she’s surprised words even come out because her mouth is suddenly so dry.

Her dad drops his forehead into his hand and shakes his head a little. “I don’t know, Zoe.”

“Why would he write this? What does this even mean- _because there’s Zoe?_ ”

“I don’t…” He shakes his head again as he lifts it. “I guess he just wished that you guys knew each other a little more. Or that you got along a little better.”

“So this is _my_ fault?”

Her dad looks a little panicked, and he shakes his head a lot more forcefully this time. “ _No._ No, Zoe. It’s not your fault. At all. None of this is your fault.”

“I didn’t tell him to fucking hang himself in his closet!”

“Zoe.” He says her name firmly, the way he sometimes does if she’s about to be in trouble for being a little too mouthy or something. There’s no warning tone to it, though, just seriousness. “This is not your fault. That is not what Connor meant.”

“How the hell do you know?”

He doesn’t, that’s how. He swallows again and shakes his head. He has no answer.

“And why the hell would he write this to Evan Hansen?! Connor didn’t know Evan Hansen!” 

Literally the only time she’s ever seen the two of them interact was the time Connor shoved him to the ground in the hallway. Just a few hours before he went home and ruined all of their lives forever.

Her dad takes the note form her. He just takes it from her and folds it up. “We’ll worry about this later. Why don’t you go start getting ready? I need to get your mom up.”

He leaves the kitchen then, just leaves her and leaves the situation altogether. He always does that. When something isn’t convenient for him, he just leaves it, ignores it. Just pretends like it isn’t happening. 

She flips him off as he leaves, but he doesn’t see.

Two hours later, and it’s finally happening. She’s standing at an open casket with both of her parents, and they’re staring down at the fourth member of their family. Mr. Hoffner and one of his associates are standing in the back of the chapel, but other than that, they’re all alone. Visitation doesn’t start until 11, but apparently it’s normal for families to get a little time to themselves beforehand.

So here they are.

They stand there for maybe forty-five seconds before her mom starts having a meltdown. Zoe tries not to look at her because she can’t deal with that right now. From the corner of her eye, she sees her mom basically collapsing into her dad’s arms, and then he’s walking them over to a pew to sit down. She’s glad that her dad has enough sense to realize that he needs to comfort her right now instead of putting on some stoic front and pretending like nothing is happening.

But when her parents go to sit down and have their moment, Zoe’s suddenly left all alone with the body of her dead brother, and the only thing she can think about is how expensive this stupid casket was.

It’s the first time she’s seen Connor since they were in school Monday. Well, if you don’t count the body bag she watched being cared out the backdoor of her house anyway. But there he is. Just lying there in this stupidly expensive shiny box, and she thinks he looks ridiculous. This isn’t Connor. The clothes her mom picked out aren’t “familiar” at all. She’s got him dressed in a navy blue button down shirt with some black dress pants, and Zoe’s positive she’s never seen Connor wear either piece of clothing in her entire life. He’s wearing a tie, and a nice leather belt, and Zoe wonders morbidly if it’s his suicide belt. His fingernails are neatly trimmed and clean. There’s no trace of the black nail polish he’s worn every day for the past two years. His hair is still long, but it’s clean and placed nicely against the satin pillow. He’s wearing makeup, but it’s not the eyeliner type that he phased through as a freshman- it’s like real, true makeup. She can tell because his skin is darker than normal, and there are no dark circles under his eyes. There are, however, some dark spots right under his collar- spots that obviously can’t be concealed by whatever heavy duty morgue makeup they’ve caked on him.

She’s surprised by how much she truly hates him.

_So_ many people show up. She gets so sick of people coming up and hugging her that she wants to rip her hair out. She pushes through it, though, putting on a charade because that’s what her family always does. Her parents stand together, looking like a united front that’s spent all this time loving and supporting each other. Sometimes one or both of them will put an arm around her shoulders, too, or brush some hair out of her face. And they all stand there while all these people come up and shake their hands and hug them and tell them how _devastated_ they are on their behalf. Zoe thinks Connor would never be able to handle this. He’s never liked being touched- there’s no way he could deal with a bunch of strangers and distant relatives hugging him.

Just as expected, her dad is the most normally functioning of them. He even laughs and jokes with some of the people who come through the line, all the while keeping one arm around her mom’s waist like he’s physically holding her up. Maybe he is. Her mom is better than she was when they first arrived, but she’s obviously still not normal. She does manage to function, though, manages to talk to everyone, accept their hugs and condolences. Zoe tries to be normal, but it’s hard. She doesn’t know the majority of these people, but she knows enough. 

A few of her friends show up, and she’s momentarily happy to see them. That lasts about a second before the happiness turns into embarrassment. She’s embarrassed that they have to visit her here. For _this_. She talks to them for awhile- a little surprised that her dad lets her step away from the never-ending line of great-aunts and old business associates. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and she’s kind of grateful. Her friends all seem uncomfortable, like they’re being overly nice to her. She’s not surprised, but it still makes her feel weird. They tell her they can’t stay for the funeral, but they wanted to come by and that they’re thinking of her and obviously to call them if she needs _anything._ She nods, knowing she won’t call anyone. They all hug her, and it’s less weird than when the strangers hug her, but she still doesn’t love it. 

She rejoins her parents as her friends go by the casket and peek in. She watches them whisper to each other as they make their way back to the exit, and she wonders what they’re saying.

The actual funeral part is worse than she imagined. It’s so weird and awkward, and she spends the whole time sitting there beside her mother wondering why the hell anyone thought a preacher needed to be involved in this. They haven’t been to church since Zoe was like five, and even though they never really talked about it, she’s 99.9% sure that Connor didn’t consider himself religious in the least. So why is there some man up there talking about heaven and the end of suffering and all that other bullshit. If there _is_ a heaven, Connor’s sure as hell (no pun intended) not there. And all this has done is condemn everyone else to a shit ton of suffering. 

So yeah, she’s not really buying what this dude is selling.

When it’s over, the funeral home clears out, and everyone goes to their cars. There’s a funeral procession or something, like where everyone follows the hearse to the cemetery. Zoe thinks it sounds like a really, really morbid parade, but she keeps her mouth shut. Mr. Hoffner comes up to them as everyone is leaving and says they can take another minute if they need it, and her dad nods and starts saying something lowly to her mom. Zoe wanders up to where the casket is still open and looks down.

This is it. This is the last time she’s ever going to see her brother’s face in something other than pictures or long-ago home videos. This is the end. She stares at him, this version of Connor that barely even resembles her brother. Her fingers start aching, and she realizes that she’s holding onto the edge of the casket a little too tightly. She tries to put her thoughts in order, but she can’t. Her eyes burn, and she hates the fact that she’s about to _cry_ over this asshole who has tortured her for as long as she can remember. He’s made her life miserable- told her she was a bitch, screamed that he hated her, hit her,even choked her one time in middle school. He’s been the worst person in her life, and now she’s standing here about to _cry_. 

“Fuck you, Connor.” 

She hisses it, takes one last look, and then goes outside. She doesn’t wait for her parents or anything else. She just has to get out of there. Her dad’s car is parked there behind the open hearse. She doesn’t know who moved it there, but she doesn’t care. She lets herself into the backseat and leans forward to turn the key that is already in the ignition. She realizes how hot she is and turns the air up as high as it will go. Her face feels like it’s on fire, and when she catches a glimpse of how red it is in the rearview mirror, she totally fucking loses it.

The tears happen before she can stop them. Her chest feels tight, and she’s not even sure she can breathe. She doesn’t think she’s ever cried this hard in her entire life. She doesn’t even know _why_ she’s crying. She’s not sad. She’s _not._ She feels _nothing._ Just hatred and resentment and a whole lot of bitterness. 

He’s _dead._ How is he _still_ ruining her life.

_Fuck you, Connor._

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was painful. Sorry if Zoe came off a little too coldly, but I think she's got a lot of her own issues to deal with.


End file.
